


Nothing Owing

by Eliyes



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby looks after a sick friend, with a little help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Owing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place vaguely in that post-M-Day, pre-Utopia San Francisco time period. References unpleasent events from X-Factor volume 1.
> 
> This story was originally posted on Livejournal November 17, 2009.

Bobby was arranging cutlery, napkins, cups, juice, etc. on a wicker tray when Anole wandered into view, very obviously sniffing the air near the stove.  
  
"What are you making?" the young, green X-Man asked.  
  
"Matzoh ball soup." He pretended not to notice Anole's surprise. "My mother's recipe. Warren isn't feeling well -- fever, cough, that kinda thing -- so I figured I'd pamper him some. I'm guessing from your hopeful expression that you'd like some?"  
  
"Um, well..." Anole shuffled, embarrassed, as Bobby turned to look at him. "...Yeah. I haven't had any since we came to California."  
  
Bobby crossed his arms and ankles, and leaned against the counter, considering.  
  
"Tell you what," he said finally, "I'll give you a bowlful if you'll wash these pots for me. I wanna sit with War and make sure he actually eats."  
  
So Bobby filled a deep, lidded bowl with soup and dumplings for Warren, and split the rest between two smaller dishes.  
  
"There's still some lime sorbet in the freezer, if you want it," he said as he left.  
  
In the Angel's room, Jubilee was slouched down in an armchair with her feet on the footboard of Warren's bed and a notebook computer in her lap. There was a teapot on the dresser and a matching cup and saucer on the nightstand. On the bed was an enormous pile of white feathers and blankets, which shook with the occasional subterranean cough.  
  
"Hey," Bobby greeted her, managing to keep the tray level as he softly shut the door. "Did he get much of that ginseng tea in him?"  
  
Jubilee shrugged, shutting down her computer. "Maybe a cupful. He glopped in a lot of honey, and then refused to drink more. Said it was too sweet." She rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, he's been muttering about 'candy' for, like, fifteen minutes."  
  
Bobby flinched. He bent quickly to set the tray on the window seat to try to hide his reaction, but Jubilee just stared at him expectantly.  
  
"Candy -- Candace -- was his fiancée."  
  
"Oh." Her arms uncrossed. "What happened to her?"  
  
Bobby stepped in close and basically mouthed "Cameron Hodge" rather than say it loud enough for Warren's sleeping ears to pick up. Jubilee grimaced, having had more than one encounter with what used to be Hodge. Fortunately, that meant she didn't feel compelled to ask for details.  
  
"Well, anyway, he's been pretty quiet. No escape attempts."  
  
"Thanks." He fished a set of car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her. "Here. The battery's fully charged, as promised."  
  
" _Sweet._ " She made for the door, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Want me to pick you up anything while I'm out?"  
  
Bobby looked up from where he was tying off the plastic bag in Warren's wastebasket.  
  
"Oh, um, a bag of oranges? I found the juicer."  
  
"Sure thing, Bob-man." She cocked one hand at him like a gun, and then she was gone.  
  
He finished changing the garbage and then just took a moment to check Warren's temperature, Iceman-style. He didn't have thermal vision, exactly, but he was able to sense heat and cold. Thankfully, Warren's fever wasn't strong enough to tempt him to try to cool his friend off internally.  
  
Bobby had seen him much worse, burning up in a hospital, wings shattered and swarming with infection...  
  
Shaking off the gruesome memories, Bobby focused on the present. He held his hands out towards the bed and cooled the air _around_ Warren, just a little -- just for a few seconds. His efforts were rewarded with a relieved-sounding sigh from the bed, and a shifting of wings.  
  
Bobby eeled across the mattress to where he figured Warren's head was.  
  
"Waterfalls," he crooned. "Swimming pools. Rain showers."  
  
"Ngh."  
  
"Ocean waves lapping up a beach. River water slapping against a boat."  
  
"...hate..."  
  
"Eeeeasing into a bubbly hot tub. Lemonade, Warren, on a hot day -- too _much_ lemonade."  
  
Blankets and pillows were thrashed out of the way as Warren reared up onto his elbows.  
  
"You," he stated in a rough voice, "are _so_ obnoxious."  
  
"Your bladder pays me a commission. C'mon, let's get you untangled."  
  
They did, and Warren managed to get to the washroom with a minimum of weaving. Bobby bustled around the bedroom, straightening blankets and pillows, and pretending he wasn't channeling his mom. He muttered darkly to himself about the insane number of pillows Warren slept with -- right up until he found the one embroidered with (slightly lopsided) "Sweet Dreams". He remembered the year Jean made those for everybody. He didn't know where his had gotten to -- and just managed to stuff this one out of sight before Warren caught him moping over it.  
  
"You missed breakfast, so I brought you lunch in bed. And before you say 'no', you also missed dinner last night, and I made you soup from scratch. Guilt, guilt."  
  
"Is it chicken noodle?" Warren asked, arranging himself in a sitting position on the bed.  
  
"No, you said you hated chicken noodle."  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"Yes, you did! Last time you were sick. And then you threw the bowl against the wall, and Hank made a joke about _Star Trek_ , remember?"  
  
"...No."  
  
"Well, you _were_ kind of delirious." Bobby unfolded a lap tray and presented Warren with his soup and a glass of peach juice. "Ta da!"  
  
"...You made me matzoh ball soup?"  
  
"Yeah. Don't get choked up, now!"  
  
"Shut up," Warren said, coughing into his fist.  
  
They lingered over lunch for most of an hour, talking about nothing and everything. When Warren declared he absolutely could not eat the last dumpling in his bowl, Bobby popped the entire thing into his mouth and made such funny faces chewing that Warren laughed himself into another coughing fit. Bobby pounced on this opening to press another cup of tea on his friend, leading to a long string of bladder-related jokes. Warren managed to whack Bobby with a pillow, grinning.  
  
Finally, Warren let himself be tucked back in for another nap, Bobby brushing a cool hand over his face and scalp.  
  
"Thanks, Bob," the Angel murmured. "I owe you one."  
  
"Who's counting?" Bobby whispered back with a fond smile.


End file.
